


the games that we can handle

by returnsandreturns



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Second Kiss, in the bathroom at Chilton, set during the spring episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “Okay,” Paris says, again, gesturing towards her erratically, “Here’s the plan. We need to make good on that admittedly questionable spring break kiss of our youth—that way, people will assume that we’re a lesbian power couple instead of two pathetic rapidly aging losers with no prospects whose freaking hearts go all a-flutter when they see a cute boy.”“We’re not—anything in that sentence,” Rory says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a quickly thrown together re-write of the bathroom scene with unnecessary (or very necessary?) fake dating tropes

“Okay,” Paris says, after she’s finished hyperventilating over seeing Tristan, looking red and scary-determined, a face that Rory learned a long time ago was a portent of terrifying things to come. Red Paris in the morning, sailor’s warning, stuff like that.

“Okay?” Rory asks, taking a full step back.

“Okay,” Paris says, again, gesturing towards her erratically, “Here’s the plan. We need to make good on that admittedly questionable spring break kiss of our youth—that way, people will assume that we’re a lesbian power couple instead of two pathetic rapidly aging losers with no prospects whose freaking hearts go all a-flutter when they see a cute boy.”

“We’re not— _anything_ in that sentence,” Rory says. “And I don’t _want_ to relive that kiss. It was dumb and exploitative and caused no heart fluttering at all, I think my heart actually _stopped_.”

That’s slightly untrue, but she was really drunk that day and nobody needs to know about it.

“I’ve improved since then,” Paris says, too intensely. “I blew Doyle’s mind once a week before he became a minor character on _Entourage_. Sometimes twice, if I had enough wine in me and caught a particularly erotic episode of Bill Moyers.”

“You always liked em old,” Rory says, faintly, meeting Paris’ gaze after taking a moment to see if she could make it for the door and shaking her head. “I’m still not kissing you, I prefer my mind to be unblown.”

“Don’t be a prude, Mary,” Paris says, which is _mean_.

“Not wanting to fake kiss you is not being a prude,” Rory says. “It’s not wanting to be part of the first scene of some really specific pornography.”

“Then don’t fake kiss me,” Paris says.

“That’s the plan,” Rory says.

“No, I mean _actually_ kiss me,” Paris says. “Pucker up, lay one on me, French me, Gilmore. You can’t deny there’s some serious unresolved sexual tension between us, let’s finally air it out a little.”

“Uhm, I can _absolutely_ deny that,” Rory says, even though—yeah, distantly and sometimes not-so-distantly, she was aware of it.

“Not with any authority, though,” Paris says. She’s standing way too close. “Look, we probably should have let this out when we were at Yale and just passed it off as some phase, but now’s an equally good time to just get it over with, mano a mano, lips on lips. You can pretend that you’ve never thought about doing it afterwards, and I can pass you off as my trophy wife.”

“I’m not a trophy wife,” Rory says. “Why can’t you be the trophy wife?”

“Because you’re made of porcelain and have an ass that won’t quit,” Paris says, dryly. “You’re a pretty good trophy, kid. Now, are we doing this?”

There's definitely a real and distinct part of Rory that wants this to happen, a part that's been creeping around the back of her head for a really long time.

“You owe me a huge favor,” Rory says, pointing at her, trying to sound as exasperated as possible.

“Of course,” Paris says. “Just name it. Also, we need to practice for authenticity’s sake, so. . .”

Rory doesn’t have time to say anything before Paris is stepping in and grabbing her face, standing on her toes to press her lips to Rory’s, gently at first. Rory lets herself melt into it, because Paris smells like nice perfume and fear sweat and it’s weirdly comforting, in a familiar way.  Also, because Paris was right—she has _improved_.

“Okay, wow,” Rory breathes, when they part. "That was a movie kiss, that was, uh--that was a  _Princess Bride_ kiss. Wow." 

“That’s right, _wow_ ,” Paris says, proudly, getting a hand in Rory’s hair to pull her down efficiently into another kiss, licking expertly into her mouth. Rory moans completely accidentally, distantly aware that she’s never kissed anybody shorter than her, that she’s never kissed a _girl_ before. Other than Paris, but that was mostly just her being kissed, until now. This might be an early mid-life crisis, but god, it’s good.  

Rory is vaguely aware of someone opening the door when Paris breaks the kiss to growl, “Get out of here.”

The person turns out to be Francie, who reels back before squinting at them and nodding.

“Yep, that makes a lot of sense,” she says. “Carry on.”

Rory’s still gasping for breath, hands digging into Paris’ shoulders.

“I think we’ve got that down,” Paris says, smoothing down Rory’s hair before stepping back to straighten her own clothes where they’d bunched up under Rory’s hands. “Come on, let's go show off our fictional latent lesbian love. All you've got to do is go out there and kiss me firmly but chastely on the mouth. I know you've got a wild side, I remember the yacht, but we're in front of minors, for God's sake, so keep it in your pants.”

Rory was distracted watching Paris’ mouth, which is _new_ to her, a well-kissed Paris, looking pink and pleased with herself.

“Actually, I think we might need more practice,” Rory says, slowly, stepping closer to Paris again. “Don’t you want it to be authentic?"

Paris looks Rory up and down.

“Don’t fall in love with me for real,” she says, gripping Rory’s shoulder. “You are a delicate flower and I will rip you apart and step on you.”

“I’m not that delicate,” Rory says, startled by the concept of falling in love with Paris, wondering how many kisses it would take to get there, wondering how good Paris is at things that aren’t kissing. She’s grown up a lot. They both have.

“You’re actually kissing me, aren’t you?” Paris asks, a little vulnerable now, letting her hands slide down to curl around Rory’s elbows.

“Sure seems like it,” Rory says. “Honestly, Tristan’s probably gone by now, and I—still want to do that again. Is it a bad idea?”

“Probably,” Paris says, shrugging. “Want to do it, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Rory says, smiling. “Carpe diem, right?”

Paris kisses her instead of replying, backing Rory up into a bathroom stall. They could’ve done this in high school and Rory’s life might’ve been completely different, but they’re here now. It’s as good a time as any.

**Author's Note:**

> [also doing stuff & taking prompts on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] the games that we can handle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100339) by [exmanhater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater)




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